


Another One Bites The Dust

by gemini28



Category: Problem Sleuth (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:18:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3166193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemini28/pseuds/gemini28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eventualities happen. Some, more expected than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another One Bites The Dust

It had ended up being an unfortunate, but inevitable, necessity. Both parties had absolutely considered the possibility before, and they’d also discussed it at length at least once. It was simple etiquette, really, when you were in such a relationship as the two of them were.

That’s why, when Diamonds Droog put a neat hole through the center of Pickle Inspector’s head, he didn’t feel anything but a vague interest in the way the Inspector’s eyes immediately went out of focus and he slumped forward in the chair he was tied to.

Droog turns away, re-holstering his gun and straightening out his suit for the umpteenth time. There’s nothing more to be gained through staying here, so he walks over to the door and opens it just in time to nearly get hit by a knife. It embedded itself into the doorframe next to his head, and his glance went from it, to Slick, who was busy retrieving his knives from Problem Sleuth’s corpse.

“Having trouble?” Droog said, yanking the knife out and walking over Slick. As soon as he held out the knife, Slick snatched it away and turned back to the collection on the table.

“Shut up. Buncha these things got caught in his bones- how the hell does that even happen??” Slick said, waving one of his knives around as he spoke before stuffing it back into his coat. “An’ I didn’t get shit outta him. You have any better luck?” When Droog just shook his head, Slick scowled harder and finished putting the last of his knives away. “That’s just great. What a waste of time.”

“There’s still their offices.” Droog pulls his cigarette case from his pocket, lighting up as he speaks. “They clearly weren’t expecting us, so it’s likely that there are still things there.” He watched Slick visibly straighten up with a wide grin and only take the time to straighten out his jacket before scampering off to the exit. Droog gave Problem Sleuth one last, disinterested glance before following his boss out of the warehouse.

The offices of Sleuth and Co. are all too easy get into, what with the broken lock on the front door. Slick is sneering and posturing more than usual, though Droog mostly ignores him, even as Slick tries to goad him into an argument. They make their way up the stairs to the offices proper and Slick slinks off to the middle door, clearly Sleuth’s by the way that there’s no doorknob anymore, and bullet holes litter the opposite wall. On the left, a door that was barely hanging on its hinges, and on the right, one with no window, but instead a piece of paper hanging weakly out of the frame.

That one would be Inspector’s, most likely.

Droog walks right over, surprised once he tries the handle that it is, in fact locked. Not that makes much difference, with the window mysteriously gone. He reaches in, flips the lock and undoes the deadbolt, and pushes the door open.

Inspector’s office is dark, and Droog frowns when he moves his hand across the wall but doesn’t find a lightswitch. Sifting through his memories of the time spent in the Inspector’s office, he recalls that the only source of light had apparently been the window-like ceiling light that Inspector would occasionally forget to plug in. The light from the hallway was enough that it didn’t take Droog long to find and plug in the cord for the ceiling light. The bright, almost sanitized light flickered on, washing the room out. The office was tidier than usual, which usually only ever happened if Inspector was expecting Droog to come by. That was...unsurprising, but not exactly what Droog wanted to find when he came here.

On the opposite wall to the desk, there was a mishmash of what could charitably be called filing cabinets. Droog walks over, certain that Inspector would have forgotten something in his usual cleaning rush. Something that he would be able to work with. All of Inspector’s files were still there, and Droog was pleased to find that, when he opened them, they were not blank. After that, it’s all too easy to let his mind wander as his eyes search for keywords in the files. It likely isn’t the smartest move, but really, he’s got all the time he needs to think.

His thoughts go right to Pickle Inspector, of course. It had only been through carefully ignoring any want or need to take a close look at his feelings regarding the matter that he hadn’t thought about it earlier. He supposes he should be feeling...worse, than he does. Perhaps someday in the future he’ll think about it and be able to feel sad, because Inspector is-… was. He _was_ an interesting man. Someone that Droog had liked, who could keep up with him, if not physically then certainly mentally. He supposed he would miss him, in his own way. Things would certainly be a lot less interesting without 2/3rds of Team Sleuth around; Slick would likely find a new chew toy in no time at all, but Droog tended to be harder to please. He would have to come to terms sooner or later with the fact that there was very likely no other man quite like Pickle Inspector in the city.

Droog’s frown deepened as he set aside another file, and took a moment to seriously consider the task set before him. Pickle Inspector’s way of categorizing things was nonsensical at best, and completely chaotic at worst. This was going to take far too long, it would be smarter to just take relevant looking files, trash the office, and leave-

Droog was brought out of his thoughts by a creaking noise. His head jerked up, and he glanced around. The door might have closed slightly, but it hadn’t seemed to have moved… Perhaps Slick had done something and the noise had carried over. That seemed more than plausible, and he turned towards the door, ready to go over and make sure nothing’s on fire. Or if there is something on fire, at least he wants to know about it. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he spots something. The ceiling light is...open?? Droog rubs his eyes, not really sure what he’s seeing is actually happening right now. It is almost definitely the stress, and he should stop to take a smoke break, really.

When he looks back up, though, there are legs dangling from what he guesses must be a window of some sort, not a light. He decides to wrap his mind around that later, pulling out a pistol from his inventory. Whoever was coming through was probably planning to do roughly the same thing he was; why else would someone go through the damn skylight instead of through the door?

Droog had no intention of letting anyone interrupt his work, not now.

He leveled the pistol at where the person would have to drop down, so that the first thing they would see would be a gun pointed at them. It’ll be easy to shoot them, and then get out of here. “Shoot, interrogate, kill” were his general plans A through Z when it came to people showing up where they weren’t wanted. This might have been stranger than the normal way someone would pop up, but the plans wouldn’t have to take much tweaking to fit it. And if the person looked suspicious enough, he could probably pin this whole crime on them, which would save him a lot of legwork.

Droog was wrapped up in his thoughts, allowing himself to work mostly on autopilot, so when the person dropped down and made a strangled noise of surprise at the gun, it took him a lot longer than it should have to recognize the man who had dropped through. He could be forgiven though, considering the last time Droog had seen him was with a bullet hole in his head.

For his part, Pickle Inspector actually looked pretty good for a dead man. Besides looking a little frazzled, he seemed fine. He seemed...alive. It would normally take a lot to unnerve Droog, but seeing Inspector clearly react to the gun in his face, rather than acting as some sort of specter, was enough to show cracks in his otherwise iron facade.

“I killed you.” He says, irritation showing in his voice as he puts away the gun. It’s likely useless to try shooting him again- at least, until Inspector explains how he did that. Otherwise, he’d probably do whatever it was he did again. Droog didn’t relish the thought of wasting more bullets on someone than he had to.

Inspector visibly relaxes as the gun is out of sight, and immediately begins wringing his hands and biting his lip in a way Droog recognizes as his way of thinking. Droog’s patience was already slipping, but he needed an explanation for this, so he could wait.

“You did! And, um, may I say that it was very- well, I won’t say nice, but it was efficient?” He says, and notices the way Droog’s staring at him before hurriedly continuing. “W-well, ah, it turns out that I had...obtained an extra imaginary life, that I’d been completely unaware of! So, ahaha, um. That’s why I’m back!” Droog just looks at him, not quite sure how to react. On the one hand, it makes...a certain kind of sense. After all, he’s alive now, and if he were lying then he wouldn’t be alive. On the other, his ridiculous Imagination stories are something that Droog had always assumed to be just that- stories. Apparently not.

“Do you expect-” He started to say, only to be interrupted by the sound of shouting that came muffled through the office walls. He can recognize Slick, whose curses are understandable easily through the thin walls, and another, deeper voice, which he supposes is Sleuth. Both of them are back, then, which is...entirely unsurprising. Inspector makes a face at their obvious bickering, and steps forward to take Droog’s hand, touch light and hesitant. His smile is uncertain, but when Droog doesn’t immediately go for a weapon he seems to relax away from being one step away from completely freaking out.

“Ah, perhaps...Perhaps you’d like to better discuss this over a drink? I-I mean…” He waves a hand at the wall just as a knife imbeds itself into the wall. It must be thinner than Droog gave it credit for. “This isn’t the best environment for Imagination talk, after all!” Droog doesn’t even have to consider his answer, considering that the yelling next door is starting to really grind on his slightly frayed nerves.

“Hm. Yes, I believe that you owe me a better explanation, Inspector. You know me and my interest in cheating Death.” He says, keeping his tone carefully neutral, but most decidedly not letting go of Inspector’s hand. They walked out of his office (Inspector insists on locking the door, despite the lack of a window), and away from the now absolutely outrageous amount of racket coming from Sleuth’s office.

Droog was certain he was going to hear all about it whenever he got back to the hideout, but for now he was going to get as drunk as physically possible while listening to Inspector explain impossibilities. And he was going to enjoy himself.

**Author's Note:**

> This came about after I had a long think about how Imaginary lives would end up complicating getting killed in the Real World, especially when your lover's a gangster.


End file.
